


Born To Beg (For You)

by zade



Series: kinktober 2018 (the kinkening) [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asphyxiation, Ass to Mouth, Bad Dragon, Begging, Breathplay, Chapter Four:, Chapter Three:, Chapter five, Cock Rings, Crying During Sex, Formalwear, Gags, Kink Negotiation, Kinktober, Large insertions, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mirror Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Petplay, Playful Sex, Rimming, Scars, Schmoop, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Trust, chapter two has:, day one has:, like it's there trust me, more rimming, mushy sex, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:08:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zade/pseuds/zade
Summary: This is the place where my present day murphamy kinktober fics live! This is a kinky, schmoopy, porny mess, enjoy





	1. Chapter One: Begging and Ass Worship

**Author's Note:**

> i've been dragged bodily back into the 100, i hope ur happy 
> 
> this chapter contains: begging, dom/sub elements, light bondage, orgasm denial (but there are still orgasms), so much rimming, little bit of ass-to-mouth kissing
> 
> title from that one song by the national. you know the one.

Murphy is bent over on his knees. Bellamy bound his hands behind him, wrist to elbow, so he’s leaning on his shoulder with one cheek smushed into the pillow. He’s pretty sure Bellamy used bondage tape, the vinyl stuff that only sticks to itself and won’t pull at Murphy’s hair or skin, because Bellamy can be obnoxiously gentle to Murphy when he wants to. Bellamy is behind him, one hand on his back to keep him bent over, the other pulling his ass cheeks apart as Bellamy presses his lips and tongue wetly to Murphy’s asshole. He’s been at it for what Murphy is sure is literally centuries, ignoring Murphy’s cock, hard and leaking and bouncing, and Murphy wants to cum.

There had been a pillow under his hips to help him keep his ass up at first, but Bellamy had removed it when he realized that Murphy was rubbing himself off on it.

“If my erection has lasted more than four hours, you gotta take me to the ER, Blake,” Murphy says. He’s panting, still pumping his hips like there’s still something for him to fuck into instead of air. Bellamy laughs, a huff of air across his asshole that sends a literal shiver up his spine. He’s so hard he aches with it. Bellamy’s tongues inside him and Murphy would murder him if that wouldn’t be counterproductive to orgasms. “Bellamy, please, it’s been forever, I need to cum.”

Bellamy pulls away for a second, using his thumb to rub saliva around Murphy’s hole. It’s a terrible feeling, or a terribly good feeling, or maybe just a good feeling, but Murphy’s so bound up in knots that everything feels good and nowhere near good enough.

“I don’t know,” Bellamy says, sounding hoarse, like eating Murphy’s ass is on par with a full day of shouting. “I said you cum from my mouth or not at all, and I’m not sure you’re working hard enough. If you want me to let you cum maybe you should be more convincing.” 

Murphy can practically hear the dumb self-satisfied smirk on Bellamy’s dumb face and he bangs his head against the pillow. Bellamy dives back in, lips and tongue and wet heat, and Murphy is squirming with want, gyrating and shaking. “Please,” he says, finally, voice breaking, and Bellamy rewards him by tensing his tongue and fucking it and out of Murphy’s wet hole.

“Better,” Bellamy says between licks. Murphy might as well be a lollipop.

“Please, please please please please,” Murphy blurts, straining backwards onto Bellamy’s mouth. He hates begging with a passion, but Bellamy has always managed to convince him to do whatever Bellamy says. “Please, Bellamy, please let me cum, I’ll be good for you, I swear, I’ll be so, so good, please!”

Bellamy laughs again, and moves the hand that was on his back down to cup Murphy’s cock. He rests it there, not tight or stroking, but it’s something for Murphy to rub himself and against and at this point he’ll take what he can get. Bellamy presses his tongue flat against Murphy’s ass, then digs his teeth into the rim of it, biting. It’s a flash of pain, but gone in a second; too much and not nearly enough.

Murphy is shaking, sweaty and hard and desperate. “Please, Bellamy,” he says, more a whisper than a command. “Please, Bellamy, I’m fucking dying! Let me cum!”

Bellamy pulls away again. “I liked it better when you were asking.”

Murphy would roll his eyes if he had any control of his body at all. He humps Bellamy’s hand with abandon, screaming when Bellamy’s tongue breaches his asshole again, this time with an added finger. He can barely catch his breath, how is he supposed to speak? “Please, Bellamy, I’ll be so good, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want, please! I can be good—I will be, I’ll do anything, okay, anything? Please, I feel so good, you’re making me feel so good, Bellamy, please, let me cum.”

Bellamy sucks at the rim of his ass, still fucking into it, but tightens his hand around Murphy’s dick. He gives Murphy a few hard strokes and that’s enough. Murphy cums, suddenly, shaking apart on the bed, only kept together by the bondage tape and Bellamy’s hands on him. He yells, “Fuck!” and Bellamy laughs, fucking him through the orgasm, then pushing down his hips until he’s lying flat on the bed.

Bellamy scoots up the bed until they are face to face, Murphy still bound, and gives Murphy a kiss, which is obscene and hot and gross all at once, and Murphy is made of mush. “Now, then,” Bellamy says, smirking slightly. “I believe you promised me whatever the hell I wanted.”


	2. Day Four: Mirror Sex and Crying (and Really Schmoopy Porn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an ooc mess but i wanted schmoopy porn so i wrote it for myself
> 
> this chapter contains: mirror sex, mushy porn, crying, self esteem issues, and my hc that murphy has a lot of scars no matter what era we're putting him in

Despite what people think, Murphy isn’t an idiot, so he was suspicious as soon as Bellamy brought the full-length mirror home, but he is easily distracted by sex. It sits in their room, bolted to the wall for almost a month before Bellamy makes it a thing. Bellamy says, “You trust me?” like it’s a question at this point, but Bellamy sounds like he maybe thinks it is still up for debate, so Murphy lets himself be manhandled in front of the mirror, rolling his eyes like it’s his job.

It’s not that Murphy categorically avoids mirrors, it’s just that he has a lot of scars, and isn’t super good looking, scars notwithstanding, and Bellamy, well, Bellamy is a sight for sore eyes; he’s a tall glass of water after walking through the desert; he’s GQ handsome and he’s got _freckles_.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Bellamy says when they get to the bedroom. Bellamy strips like it’s no big deal, which Murphy thinks maybe it isn’t if you’re built like a model. Murphy strips, too, a little cautiously.

“Get on your knees for me, Murphy?” Bellamy asks, kissing the back of Murphy’s neck, and like Murphy would say no to that. 

Murphy settles onto his knees gracefully, raising an eyebrow at Bellamy in the mirror. “What now, Blake?”

Bellamy grins. “Following basic instructions. You’re getting better, Murphy.” Murphy scoffs, but Bellamy doesn’t let him get up, crowds around him, legs resting up against Murphy’s back. “Get closer, arms straight out on either side of the mirror.”

Murphy shuffles closer the mirror and stretches his arms out. He looks at himself in the reflection then turns away. His scars are there, pink and puckered across his skin and if he looks too long he’ll go down the spiral of not deserving Bellamy, of not deserving anything, and he doesn’t want that because Bellamy is naked and he really wants to get fucked.

“Eyes ahead,” Bellamy says, kneeling down and slicking his fingers with a bottle a lube, which Murphy can see out of the corner of his eye without facing forward.

“I’m not playing your stupid fucking games, Bellamy,” Murphy says, heated. He doesn’t move his arms, though, just stubbornly keeps his face averted.

Bellamy kneels behind him, hooks his chin over Murphy’s shoulder. Murphy glances at him the mirror, wants to see Bellamy’s face, but turns away again quickly. It’s not worth it to see the mess on his chest and arms and thighs, even for Bellamy. “Not a game,” Bellamy says, so close to Murphy’s ear that it causes a shiver to race up his spine. His cock has taken interest in the proceedings even if his brain hasn’t, and he’s half hard already.

Bellamy wraps a hand around his cock, the other sliding between Murphy’s ass cheeks and pressing between them. “I’m going to fuck you,” he says directly into Murphy’s ear. “And you’re going to watch me do it.”

Murphy starts so shake his head, but Bellamy lifts the hand that was resting on Murphy’s cock to his chin, and forces his head forwards. It leaves a smear of lube on his chin, but Bellamy keeps Murphy’s face pointing forward as he pushes a finger into Murphy’s ass. “Bellamy, I don’t—”

The finger is rapidly joined by a second, and he spreads them, stretching Murphy out quick and dirty. “You safewording, Murphy?”

Murphy sighs, shifting his weight between his knees. “Bellamy—”

Bellamy shoves a third finger in, too quick again, and the burn shuts Murphy up as good as anything else. “Are—you—safewording,” he says, punctuating each word with vicious thrust. “Because if you’re not, then I don’t want to hear it.”

Murphy opens his mouth, but he loses all sense of his words when Bellamy pushes into him. He presses their bodies close, one had still cradling Murphy’s jaw the other pressed against his pelvis, pulling them together and griping Murphy’s cock. “Look at yourself, Murphy. Look how good we look together.”

The together part Murphy can pretty much agree with especially with Bellamy to set the curve. He tries looking at himself, but it’s hard. Bellamy’s hand won’t let him turn away, though. He tries to turn his head but Bellamy turns it back. Bellamy’s fucking him slow, gyrating more than fucking. 

“Look at yourself, Murphy.” Bellamy kisses along his neck, strokes Murphy’s cock slow firm motions. “God, you’re so good looking.” He sounds so genuine, too, looks so happy to be kissing Murphy’s neck and for a moment Murphy almost believes him, but then he catches sight of the scars on his chest.

He can tell he’s moments from crying, but he steels himself. “I’m not,” he says, only a little bit shaky. “Bellamy, I’m not—”

Bellamy shushes him, kissing up his neck to his ear. It looks so sensual in the mirror, so much more loving than Murphy thinks it should. “You’re god damn beautiful, Murphy.” Murphy opens his mouth but Bellamy shushes him again. “Look at yourself.”

Murphy looks at himself in the mirror, sees how Bellamy looks at him. He starts crying, little hiccupping sobs. He doesn’t get it at all, but Bellamy looks at him like he’s something precious. It’s hard to watch, but he sort of wants to, now. He moves one arm off the wall wipes at his eyes, but obligingly puts it back on the wall once he’s done. “Bellamy—”

“Every scar,” Bellamy says, rotating his hips, fucking Murphy gently but firm. Watching Bellamy’s hips in the mirror is memorizing. “Every mark is something you’ve survived. You’re brave and strong, and really fucking beautiful.”

“Stop,” Murphy says, but it’s just a whisper, and that’s not their safeword anyway.

“Beautiful,” Bellamy says insistently. “I never get tired of looking at you, Murphy. Can you see it? How strong you are? How far you’ve come? You’re incredible.”

Murphy’s crying harder, now, emotionally raw. Bellamy holds him tight in the cage of his arms, and fucks him good. Bellamy cums first, fucks him through his aftershocks. He pulls out, still holds Murphy tight as he strokes him orgasm, and Murphy is still making little hiccups when he cums.

Bellamy eases him off the wall and onto the bed. Murphy’s pliant, cooperative, as he shakes with the rest of his tears. Bellamy curls up against him, holds him until Murphy’s done with crying.

“You okay?” he asks when Murphy’s breathing is back under control.

“You don’t have to bullshit me,” Murphy says softly. “You don’t have to tell me a whole pack of lies just to fuck me in front of a mirror.”

Bellamy kisses his neck again. “Wasn’t lying.”

“Oh.” Bellamy keeps kissing him, every scar, every mark. “I, uh, I knew that.”

Bellamy laughs. “It’s okay. We’ll just keep doing this until you learn. Keep fucking you and telling you how great it is.”

“You don’t gotta.” Murphy’s smiling, despite himself.

“It’ll be a real hardship,” Bellamy says with an exaggerated sigh, laughing when Murphy scoffs. “But I guess I’m willing to take one for the team. For you.”

Murphy doesn’t have anything to say that, but that’s okay. Bellamy’s drifting off to sleep, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my name is gabe racetrackthehiggins and it's only day four oh my god


	3. Day Twelve: Petplay and Rimming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was falling asleep as i wrote this i caught none typos lemme know if u see any
> 
> this chapter has: pet play, rimming, that's it?
> 
> thanks to moy for the fox thing

Bellamy had wanted to find a plug with tail the same color as Murphy’s hair. He had spent a long time browsing reputable websites with Murphy lying with his head on Bellamy’s lap, so Bellamy could compare his hair color to the fur on tails, but in the end he hadn’t been able to find anything close enough, and when Murphy had bit his thigh while looking, Bellamy had thought “fuck it,” and bought him a fox tail. Bellamy’s happy to discover the brown parts do sort of match Murphy’s hair. 

The fox ears came from a Halloween store, and although he was sure Murphy was going to hate it, Bellamy hadn’t been able to resist.

Murphy sneers when he sees it all. “Did you buy me a kennel, too?”

Bellamy thinks about that, about Murphy stuck in a small cage, with barely room to line down, moaning and stuck (maybe with something vibrating inside him), and has to stop and think about baseball until his erection has calmed down some. “I can,” Bellamy offers, and doesn’t laugh when Murphy blushes. “Do you want to be good for me?”

Murphy’s flushes, and now Bellamy is absolutely going to have to talk to him about bigger harder scenes, but for now: tail. 

“Strip, then get on the bed,” Bellamy tells him. Murphy does, moving slowly, but he gets on his hands and knees, guessing Bellamy’s next request. “Good boy.”

Murphy shoulders tighten in on themselves, but he stays put. 

Bellamy rubs Murphy’s shoulders for a minute, but they don’t loosen, so Bellamy continues with his plan. Murphy knows how to safeword and Bellamy knows that Murphy will use it when he needs to. He slicks his fingers up and pushes two into Murphy at once, savoring Murphy’s gasp. They fucked the night before, so he’s still a little wet and opens easily for Bellamy’s fingers.

“Warn a guy,” Murphy mutters. His cock is getting hard, though, so Bellamy doesn’t worry. 

The plug is on the smaller side. It goes in quick, Murphy’s ass clenching around the narrow stem. Bellamy sits back on his feet, watching Murphy become accustomed to the tail. Murphy shifts around on his knees, shuddering when the fur of the tail brushes across the back of his legs, then moving his hips so it'll do it again. “Like that?” Bellamy asks, delicately placing the ear-headband on Murphy’s head as he glares.

Murphy makes to turn around, but as he turns the tail swishes across on his thighs and he stops, shuddering again. “Can I talk—or?”

Bellamy leans forward, cupping Murphy’s face, and kisses him gently. “Whatever feels good to you. You can talk or not talk. It’d be, uh—“ Bellamy paused to swallow hard, “uh, really hot if you want to crawl, but if you’re not into that, we can go as far with this as you’d like.”

Murphy nods. “Okay. What do you want it to be? Like, if I was going to say yes to everything which, let me be clear, I am definitely not, what would you want to do?”

Bellamy tries to find his words. “I want to spent a little while with you and I just being, however into it you want to be, and then when you’re getting squirmy and desperate, then we ‘d fuck." It wasn't too unrealistic either; Murphy was bad at sitting still and Murphy was especially bad at sitting still and not begging to be fucked when something was already in his ass.

Murphy considers for a long moment. “Okay.” He steps off the bend, hips shifting as he adjusts to the plug. He locks eyes with Bellamy, then settles onto his hands and knees and crawls into the other room.

Bellamy follows him, palming his dick absently, and in a daze. They sit on the couch. The TV is on quiet, Bellamy reading, and Murphy lies next to him with his head on Bellamy’s leg. Bellamy runs his fingers through Murphy’s hair, and glances over periodically at Murphy. Murphy does a good job of being docile and cuddly for about an hour before he starts getting restless. He headbuts Bellamy and humps the couch cushion, hard and restless and Bellamy pretends not to notice.

It takes about twenty minutes for Murphy to get twitchy enough that he bites Bellamy’s thigh as Bellamy continues to ignore him. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” Murphy hesitates, then makes a little growl. Bellamy hides his smile and pushes Murphy off him, smiling. “Go back to the bedroom, then, you little beast.”

Murphy saunters off on his hands and knees, pausing to turn back around and raise his eyebrow cockily. 

Bellamy follows him into the room, pausing to grab something out of their toy box before he meets Murphy on the bed. “You want to cum?” Bellamy asks, and Murphy makes a little wispy sound of assent. “Or, you want to eat my ass?” Murphy makes a little louder noise, leaning towards Bellamy.

Bellamy reveals the ring gag he pulled from the toy box, and dangles it. Murphy makes a confused, guttural noise that sounds like questioning, and fuck if that isn't hot. “Animals that bite get muzzled,” he says. Murphy makes a distressed sound, but grins and sits still and lets him wrap it around Murphy’s head. Bellamy settles on the bed on his back, knees up and ass exposed.

Murphy makes another wounded noise, then gestures at his mouth.

“Try,” he says, rolling his eyes, and Murphy tries. He dives into Bellamy’s ass, trying to lick at it, but the gag keeps his mouth open and limits his tongue movement and keeps him from getting his lips as close to Bellamy's asshole as he otherwise would. Groaning, Murphy keeps pushing forward, tongue pressing wetly at Bellamy’s ass through the narrow ring in his gag. Murphy makes an annoyed noise then redoubles his efforts.

Bellamy starts stroking himself, lazily. Murphy growls, pushing forward, trying again to press his tongue inside Bellamy. It’s good, because Murphy is being so good and cooperating and trying even though Bellamy set for him an impossible task, but also because he’s so distracted that Murphy hasn’t touched his own dick, once. Bellamy savors the moment. “Keep going—I bet you can get me off before your tongue goes numb.” Murphy moans, but keeps trying as Bellamy strokes his own cock.

It's an intoxicating sight, and Bellamy thinks he's going to have to think of something equally hot to pay Murphy back. Or maybe just let the little beast hump a pillow while Bellamy tells him how good he's being. That could be good, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 sleep


	4. Day Fourteen: Asphyxiation and Tentacle(dildos)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u again to moy for recommending i turn tentacle into tentacle dildo!
> 
> this chapter contains: pretty heavy breath play, some light orgasm denial, a very large bad dragon style toy

Murphy suggests the dildo. Bellamy, looking over his shoulder at the website says, “Don’t you think that’s a little big, Murphy?” Never let it be said that Murphy says no to a challenge, because as soon as Bellamy suggests getting a size smaller, Murphy hits the confirm order button on the giant one.

He regrets it, a little, when he sees it in person but he can’t admit it, and Bellamy knows that. It’s dark purple and green, tentacle shaped and curved, and definitely thicker than Bellamy’s wrist and longer than his forearm. Murphy is equally turned on and apprehensive, even more so when Bellamy says, “Ready to take that whole thing?”

If he had sense in his brain, Murphy would say, “Maybe let’s take it slow,” but he doesn’t, so he says, “Think you’re man enough to make me, Blake?”

“How do you want to do it?” Bellamy asks, weighing the thing in his hand. It’s heavy and Murphy feels something in his stomach that’s either excitement or nausea, or both? But his stupid, senseless dick seems to be on board.

“Surprise me.”

Bellamy spends the better part of an hour stretching Murphy’s ass wide, until he’s four fingers knuckle deep, and Murphy is panting and mewling and scratching at the sheets. Once Bellamy judges him stretched enough, he ties Murphy’s hands behind his back and ties a loop of rope around his neck. It’s not tight enough to choke, but snug.

Murphy can’t complain about that, though; he likes it when it chokes.

“You shouldn’t write checks your ass can’t cash,” Bellamy says, dragging him off the bed and onto the floor. The rope collar has a long lead, and Murphy watches with increasing worry as Bellamy threads it through an eye bolt screwed into the floor. Bellamy doesn’t tie it, just threads it through, but the threat is there.

Bellamy places the long, curved tentacle down on the floor between Murphy’s legs, and raises his eyebrow like he’s waiting for Murphy to chicken out.

As if. Murphy shudders, cock hard despite his trepidation. “Try harder,” Murphy says, all bluster. He’s excited to take that monster, but it would be stupid if he wasn’t worried. Murphy pulls his arms against the tie, but he’s stuck.

“Idiot,” Bellamy says, affectionately. He kneels down, lubing up the monster cock, then pulls on the rope until Murphy drops to his knees so he doesn’t choke, bracketing the tentacle.

“There’s no way that’s all going to fit,” Murphy says, finally giving into nerves. He’s pretty sure it will, is the thing, but it’s huge.

Bellamy snorts. “Yeah, that’s a problem for you and your ass.” Murphy makes a noise that is absolutely not panicky, but could maybe be interpreted that way. “Murphy,” Bellamy says, softly, gentle. “John. What’s going on?”

Murphy swallows against the rope. “Nothing. No problem. Definitely not the huge fucking toy about to enter my body.”

Bellamy runs a hand up his back and it’s soothing, which helps. “John, you’re stretched. Like, really, really stretched. It’s going to be a challenge, for sure, but you know I’d never let anything hurt you, don’t you?” Murphy nods, which makes Bellamy smile, which in turn makes Murphy smile, which is gross. “Good. So now you’re going to straddle this thing. And if you want to breathe, you’re gonna force yourself down on it, okay?” Murphy nods. Bellamy leans over him, presses a brief kiss to his lips. “Good. Now kneel up.”

Bellamy leads the tip of the tentacle into his ass and Murphy sinks down easily on the first inch or so. It feels weird. The texture—the little suction cups!—are a much different feel than anything he’s ever had in his ass before and he sinks down a little more. It’s—its’ good, but he knows it’s long and thicker than a coke can and he’s just getting started.

“Good boy,” Bellamy says, and tugs the rope round his neck, tight.

He can’t breath. The rope is tight around his neck, so tight it’s like he’s sucking air through a straw. Murphy ‘s head is pulled backwards, his back arching into a tense curve as he tries to draw a breath. Bellamy must have tied the rope off, because he’s standing over Murphy, smiling, but the rope is pulled taut. Murphy tries to arch his back more, get closer to the tie off, but he can’t, and he looks at Bellamy with panic.

Bellamy smirks, says, “Get more of that thing in your ass, and the rope will have slack.”

Murphy would scream if he had the breath. Instead he focuses his shaking thighs on pushing down on the dildo. His vision is getting a little hazy. Another half inch slips in easily, and it even that much is enough that Murphy can drag a sip of air into his aching lungs. He breaks out in sweat, thighs already stinging with acid and ass clenching painfully down the tentacle. He fights the rope around his arms, but he has no leverage, and he can barely breathe. He forces himself down another half inch, and gasps a tiny breath.

Bellamy squats next to him, running his hand through Murphy’s sweaty hair. “You’re going great. Just six or seven more inches to go!”

Murphy would yell but he can’t waste the air. His legs are shaking enough that when Bellamy palms his dick he slips down another inch, asshole twitching around the intrusions. He draws a breath, the closest to the fullest breath he’s taken so far. He pauses where he’s at on the monster, taking a shaky breath and vibrating with want. The dildo feels so strange, and good, and it’s way too much, but between it and the hand on his cock and the lack of air, Murphy is floating in a sea of sensation and he wants it to last forever.

He thrusts himself into Bellamy’s hand, moving up and down the few inches shoved in him, and cutting off his hair with every pull forward.

Laughing, Bellamy removes his hand. “Keep going. I want to see you take that whole thing before you cum.”

Murphy groans but begins again, rocking his way down the dildo. He slips a little lower, and the tentacle has started to get wide. He ‘s low enough that he can breath easier and he tries to catch his breath as he gently bounces on the dick, stretching himself deeper than he’s been stretched and trying to prep himself for increasing width.

“Want me to tighten that up? Make it hard for you to breathe again?”

Murphy doesn’t want to admit that’s what he wants, but Bellamy knows him. The rope is pulled taut again, and he can’t breathe. He tries, more quickly, to stuff the tentacle into himself. He’s lightheaded, but he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to cum more. Bellamy puts a hand on his cock again, urging him further down on the girth of the dildo.

Murphy’s legs are shaking like crazy now, vibrating with strain and lack of air, and as his control over his legs slips, he starts sliding more quickly down the tentacle.

“Holy shit, Murphy. You should see yourself. Your ass just swallowing up that dildo like it was made for it. You’re gagging for it—gasping for it. Fuck, we’re going to have to do this in front of the mirror next time. Get yourself to the bottom, John, and I’ll make you cum so hard you can see stars.”

Murphy sucks in a gasp and sinks a little lower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're just about at the halfway point and if u sent me a message on tumblr pls note i am planning on writing a fill for u--that said if y'all wanna see something specific lemme know!!!!! im taking a nap!!!!!!


	5. Day Nineteen: Public and Formal Wear (and Sex Toys Under Clothes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has: sex toys under clothes, public, formal wear, that's it that's the whole thing
> 
> i finished this at like 8pm and then fell asleep and woke up on 10/20 so uhhh it's the thought that counts
> 
> i know it's short but also im exhausted

Murphy’s suit jacket is not quite long enough to cover his crotch, which has never really been an issue before. He shifts on his chair and barely swallows a groan at the vibration in his ass. He would be glaring at Bellamy, but he’s too flustered to manage that, even though he can see Bellamy smirking at him from the bar.

Asshole.

In a lot of ways this is Murphy’s own fault. He never backs down when he probably should, so when Bellamy bet him that he wouldn’t go to the stupid event with something shoved in his ass, Murphy said, “Bring it.”

The toy Bellamy brought out was new. A string of shiny metal spheres, each slightly larger than golf ball, and this was the point where Murphy had gotten apprehensive. They jingled slightly as Bellamy moved towards him, but Murphy disregarded it because he was overwhelmed by the size of the balls and how he was going to cope in public with them buried deep in his guts.

He let Bellamy prep him, though, let him push all six metal balls into his ass, and it had been fine mostly, until he had stood up. There was something inside the balls, maybe another metal ball, because as he moved, something inside the balls shook like a maraca and they movement caused vibration that almost took him out at the knees.

“C’mon,’ Bellamy had said, smiling sweetly, like Murphy’s current discomfort wasn’t directly his fault and idea. Bellamy helped him into his pants because he could barely move, slipping a cock ring onto Murphy’s cock before he zipped up his fly. Dressed, tucked in and stuffed full, Murphy had whimpered slightly, and Bellamy had grinned. “Look at you. It’s gonna be a long night for one of us.”

Bellamy returns from the bar with two drinks and sets one down in front of Murphy with a grin. He’s also wearing a suit, and it’s a rare enough and beautiful enough sight that Murphy would probably get half hard for that alone if he wasn’t already so turned on that he actually worries that he might be leaving a wet spot on this pants. Bellamy puts a hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing against Murphy’s collarbone and neck and Murphy shudders, shifting his hips which sets off the vibration.

“How are you doing, John?” Bellamy asks him. Bellamy’s mouth is close to Murphy’s ear and Murphy is a mess, sweaty and wanting and barely able to follow the conversation.

Murphy is coherent enough to know that saying, “I’m going to cum in my pants,” is probably not appropriate talk for public. “Please,” he says instead. He’s going mad with feeling, with the wrongness of feeling those things in public. The balls rest over his prostate and he’s over stimulated like crazy but he can’t cum.

Bellamy leans closer so he won’t be overhead. “Please what, John? Please take you home and fuck you? Please take you to the bathroom and force you to cum past the cock ring? Please take pity on you? Please make it worse? You have to specific.”

Murphy groans. He’s too warm, and his suit feels like it’s too tight, or maybe that’s his skin. He clenches around the balls and his cock spasms. “Please,” he says again.

Bellamy laughs into Murphy’s ear and the feeling of his breath makes Murphy shudder. “What if I made you cum right here? Stroked you under the table, made you stay here longer in your cum soaked pants. Bet you’re glad you chose black, or that wet spot would be extremely noticeable.”

Murphy groans, gathering up fistfuls of his pants so he doesn’t give in and touch his cock in public like a deviant. “Home,” Murphy manages. His vision is a little blurry, and he imagines he must look like an addict: shaking and sweating and unfocused.

“Mhm.” Bellamy kisses his cheek, still rubbing his neck and Murphy wants Bellamy’s hand around it. “What are you going to do about that bulge, sweetie? That wet-spot?”

Murphy eyes the glass of water that Bellamy had set out for him and doesn’t think, just knocks it over messily, jumping up half on instinct and half because _cold_ when it splashes his crotch. The wet spot is obscured by the water and Murphy drags Bellamy to his feet. “Home,” he says again.

Bellamy laughs, gives Murphy a playful shove.

Murphy rethinks all of his life choices when he takes a first step and the ricochet of the whatever inside the metal balls makes Murphy’s knees week.

“It’s a nice night,” Bellamy says conversationally. “Maybe we should walk home.”

Murphy thinks that might kill him, but he truly does hate baking down from a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> loud screaming

**Author's Note:**

> im gabe racetrackthehiggins come suffer with me


End file.
